My Fallen Angel
by emrysmile
Summary: Angels have always made Arthur feel uncomfortable, but not always in a bad way.


Arthur pulled his thick scarf tighter around his neck as a brisk wind swept by him, ruffling his hair and biting his pink cheeks. The plastic bag clutched in his right hand was beginning to bite into his fingers as the handle stretched and pulled under the weight of frozen chicken and tins of beans.

As the first handful of snowflakes fluttered past his face, Arthur grimaced. Swapping the bag to his left hand and stretching out the aching fingers of his right, Arthur turned down to walk past St James' Church. The spires of the old stone church loomed over Arthur, threatening to sway and fall atop him in the howling wind. Nearer to the cemetery, ghostly white angels, which really were no more than chips of marble, stood with their wings stretched out, and stared out through the wrought iron bars with blank eyes. Arthur shuddered, told himself it was the cold settling into his bones, and cast his eyes away from the towering building.

So consumed was he in staring at the steady movement of his own shoes that Arthur didn't notice anyone entering the cemetery. The unpleasant creak of the gate sent shivers over his spine, and his eyes snapped up in alarm. A young man, gangly and pale with unfathomably large ears, was shuffling through the cemetery, picking his way along the graves with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

Arthur turned his eyes back to the path ahead, ignored the rapid thudding of his heart and strode forward with a renewed purpose. At that moment the flimsy plastic bag finally gave way and tore along the bottom, sending chicken and beans and blackberries tumbling across the pavement. Arthur swore under his breath, apologetically glancing towards the stone angels as he did so, and knelt down to gather his shopping. In the cemetery, the young man had stopped to look over at him, but only for a moment before he turned back to the statue of a weeping angel, white as the snow beginning to blanket the streets.

Arthur paused for a moment, a handful of escaped blackberries held loosely in his grip. The young man was murmuring quietly to the stone figure, his voice thick with tears. Arthur frowned sympathetically. As the sobbing grew louder and tears began to splash onto the angel, Arthur stood and stepped into the cemetery to comfort the poor lad, but to his shock someone beat him to it.

The stone angel, a beautiful woman with a kind face but eerily blank eyes, wrapped her heavy arms about the boy. The stone bent awkwardly against its will and caused pale grey dust to float to the ground, dark against the snow, where her elbows rubbed roughly together.

'Mum,' the young man whispered hoarsely, 'Mum please, please go back.'

'No my love, not until you may come back with me.' The angel's lips didn't move, but Arthur couldn't mistake the soft melodic whisper on the air.

'I'm so sorry for my sin Mum. I'm sorry I kissed Will.' The man said, his shoulders quaking ferociously with the cold and the heart-wrenching sobs that tore from his throat. The angel smiled sadly, an odd sight as the stone twisted and crumbled in a painful motion.

'Never be sorry Merlin. I love you, my angel.'

'I love you too Mum,' said the man, a watery, but genuine smile adorning his face. For a brief moment, the thin, silvery outline of wings, eight foot tall and intricate, shimmered across Merlin's back, and his eyes flared a pale gold.

As the stone angel returned to her position, face pressed into her arms in sorrow, the wings faded from sight, as did Merlin's smile. Merlin sniffled quietly, wiped the tears away from his face with the grubby sleeve of his shirt and finally stood, brushing the snow off of his jeans. He turned to leave the cemetery and stopped short at the sight of Arthur.

'Hi,' Arthur whispered breathlessly.

'Hi.' Merlin replied. The snow fell more thickly, and Merlin shuddered, pulling his thin jacket tighter around his body.

'It's freezing out here; want to… get a coffee?' Arthur asked, ruffling the back of his snow-peppered hair. Merlin nodded, and the smile on his face was angelic.


End file.
